


Broken Pieces

by RedCoral



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bar owner Derek, Deception, M/M, So much angst, Some F-Bombs, Stiles has a rough past, a moment of Canon Typical Violence, maybe as rough as Derek's, post manipulation, years after character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 00:50:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7460223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedCoral/pseuds/RedCoral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a game. Nothing more.</p>
<p> Just a stupid bet between he and himself and so far he had been successful. Those suckers. They fell for it every time, just like he had. Didn’t they know not to play with fire? Didn’t they know that the wounds were simply not worth it? Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. To Stiles men were those black sheep, quiet and unsuspecting regardless of their loud and cocky personality. Sex was their vice and Stiles planned to exploit it to his satisfaction and most likely their degradation. </p>
<p>It was all a game. </p>
<p>Until Derek walked in his path.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>He stepped back and Stiles wheezed for a moment. “What is your problem?!” He yelled at him once he could.</p>
<p>Something seemed to break inside Derek, bringing his anger and determination back tenfold, but he didn’t move closer this time. “My problem is that you left!” He looked away, as if he was trying to keep his words in, but they were winning. “You manipulated me into- and you- you took off! You were the first person that I- and you- you fucking left!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! 
> 
> Another Sterek one-shot. Believe it or not, I started creating this in my sleep and when I woke up I had the urge to finish it. 
> 
> In case you skipped the tags, let me warn you there is so much angst in this fic. I'm sorry. It just came out that way. And the violence I mentioned it's like two sentences long, but it's graphic. If you think I should put an archive warning for it, let me know.
> 
> I don't own Teen Wolf or its characters, btw!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

It was a game. Nothing more.

Just a stupid bet between he and himself and so far he had been successful. Those suckers. They fell for it every time, just like he had. Didn’t they know not to play with fire? Didn’t they know that the wounds were simply not worth it? Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. To Stiles men were those black sheep, quiet and unsuspecting regardless of their loud and cocky personality. Sex was their vice and Stiles planned to exploit it to his satisfaction and most likely their degradation.

He was in New York, on his way to a bar that had recently caught his eye as he jogged through the city once. It did not look prestigious from the outside, but it didn’t look like a dump either. It looked like the bar people went to to have a conversation and dance if they were up to it, without the pressure of dressing up to be able to get in. Stiles chose the most flattering attire he could find in his closet, something that would bring the right attention; black jeans tight in all the right places, white V-neck t-shirt that would stand out in the black-lights, and a red hoodie, the one that made him feel invincible for some reason. Maybe because it had been all he had left after…after.

As the cab he was in reached its destination he threw at the driver more money than he asked for and got out. It wasn’t like he was going to be spending any of it tonight.

He went in and was surprised to see the place was packed. He got a few interested looks that usually ended on his backside which he returned with slight smirks. He knew how he looked. That was the whole point of his outfit.

He made his way to the bar and as he did, he found the most beautiful specimen he had ever had the honor to see and as luck had it, he seemed to be his type. He was the epitome of bad boy and oh… Stiles just loved to crush those. If you met him five years ago he would be all over this guy, trying to get him to go out with his awkward 25-year-old self, probably with the method of pestering him until he wore him out. But now… now things were different. Stiles was different. And this guy, he decided, was going to find out exactly how much.

It took him more than a couple of minutes to get to the bar and find an empty seat. There were two bartenders behind the counter, the one he was waiting for and a tall blonde guy with curly hair that looked too much like an angel for his taste. When the blonde one went to take his order, he waved him away, told him he would wait as he looked pointedly at the bad boy from hell. It didn’t take long for him to catch up and when he did he laughed and backed off. It was after fifteen minutes of unsubtle looks and smirks that the bartender he was looking for got to him.

“What can I get you?” God, his voice. It made something inside of him stir, something that was not appropriate for his plan to work. It was definitely a voice he’d never forget. Stiles got himself back together and answered confidently with a shrug, “Your name would be fine.”

The bartender raised an eyebrow at him, and Jesus, even that was the hottest thing he had ever seen. “Has that line ever worked for you?”

Stiles smirked slightly, “Plenty of times actually.”

The man scoffed at him with a frown, and wasn’t that the most adorable thing?! Aaand Stiles must have said that out loud because if looks could kill, the glare that was coming his way would have definitely set him on fire. Before he had a chance to salvage the situation, the guy asked, more like demanded, “Do you want something or are you here to waste my time?”

“Ugh, fine.” The fun was about to begin anyway. “Can I have a cosmopolitan, please?” and because he knew what was coming, he went on, “and no judgement, dude. Fruity drinks are heaven. Manly drinks are gross,” he scrunched his nose in disgust. He didn’t know why men usually pretended to like scotch and vodka and all the other drinks that were considered manly when they’d prefer something fruity and sweet. Stiles was not one of those men.

The bartender raised his hands in defense and went to make the drink. Stiles watched mesmerized as his hands worked over the drinks, how he squeezed the lime and then shook the ingredients together. It was graceful in a way that implied many years of experience and practice. He watched as he got a cocktail glass and poured the drink in it. He next did something intricate with an orange peel and, wow, was that a lighter?! He had never seen that cocktail made before. Before he could think about it more, the drink landed in front of him and the guy looked at him as if he was waiting for something. Stiles ignored him and took a sip of his drink. Okay, he may or may not have moaned out loud at the taste, but in his defense this was the best drink ever made.

The bartended named the price impatiently. So, that was what he was waiting for; payment. Stiles tried not to smirk at that. The only regret he was going to have for the night was that he didn’t get to finish his drink. “Oh,” Stiles feigned surprise, “that guy told me to get what I want,” he pointed at the other end of the counter, “he’ll pay for it.” He watched as a frown took over his face and he turned slowly to the person Stiles pointed at. He didn’t wait to catch the whole spectrum of emotions that was about to cross his face when he found no man there no matter how much he wanted to. Instead he disappeared as best as he could.

He dropped down slowly, pretending something fell from his pocket and pretended to crawl around trying to find it. Nobody spared him a second glance and the ones that did he apologized immediately before something else caught their attention. Nobody noticed he was crawling a straight line away from the bar. When he thought he was away enough he stood up and found himself next to a group of three women standing around a high table. He didn’t waste any time. Instead, he poked the girl on his right to the shoulder, a blonde woman with soft features that a seventeen year old would have. But the stamp on her hand told him she was at least twenty one. When she turned around to look at him, he smiled at her softly, the way he found women liked best, “Hi. You know you’re beautiful right? I’m not-I’m not trying to hit on you or anything,” he flailed at the suspicious looks he was getting from her friends, “I just. I had to say it, you know?” he said awkwardly, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. The girl blushed at his comment and that’s how Stiles’ knew; he was in.

He found out her name was Heather and she was studying law. He kept up conversation with her all the while looking at the bar waiting for the bartender to find him. It looked like he was looking frantically for him. When they finally made eye contact, Stiles smirked at him and mouthed, _‘catch me’_. He didn’t know if the bartender understood and he didn’t wait to find out either. He left the girls’ table, not giving a damn as they gaped at him and some of them also glared a hole through his head. Whatever. They’d live.

Once he got a couple feet away, he dropped down again and crawled towards a completely different direction he had been heading to on foot. He got up again and leaned against a wall, watching intently at the guy behind the counter looking for him and probably cursing to himself. He didn’t talk to anyone this time. He didn’t want to miss a moment of this. He laughed as the bartender grabbed someone from the neck and Stiles would be lying if he said he didn’t want to know what caused such terror on the other man’s face. Then, as if he had heard him, he turned around and locked eyes with him. He didn’t look away as he said something to the other bartender and stepped away from behind the bar. Stiles smiled to himself. He was coming after him.

As if the universe was aiding him in his quest, someone passed by right in front of him, giving him the chance to disappear once again. It was time to finish this, he decided. He crawled towards the bathrooms fully aware that they were not particularly close. It wasn’t going to be the most comfortable ride, especially in these jeans, but the man’s face once he saw him again made it all worth it. He was everywhere and nowhere at the same time and he loved it. But he couldn’t give the man a chance to find him. As his father used to say, ‘one’s an incident, two’s a coincidence, three’s a pattern’.

He was oh-so close to the bathrooms. He could see the light above the hallway that led there which shined a bright ‘W.C.’ to inform the customers of its place. He was almost there, avoiding the feet in his way and wary of the high heels that could step on his hands and stab him, when he was suddenly tackled to the ground. He was lying there gasping for breath as a heavy weight settled on top of him and not in the fun way. He squirmed around trying to get away, but he couldn’t even move himself, how could he move whoever was on his back?! He froze as he felt that person lean forward, a man’s chest touching his back and shivered when a voice reached his ear, “Caught you.”

It was _his_ voice. The one that reached his core, the one he’d never forget. He laughed breathlessly at the realization, Jesus Christ, when did he even reach him? How did he even know where he was?! He felt the weight let up a little bit and turned around, still lying on the floor, but now facing the fine specimen on top of him and trying to keep himself from imagining other ways he could have him like that. “Ugh, why you?! Couldn’t you have sent like a bodyguard or something? Or the other cute bartender?!,” Stiles groaned.

The bartender looked at him with a clenched jaw, his body tensing on top of Stiles, “I’m sorry if I don’t live up to your expectations but I-”

Stiles frowned at him. Was that embarrassment or something deeper… was this guy insecure? Seriously? “Wait. What? What are you talking about? Expec- oh, god. That’s not what I meant. Trust me buddy, if I had any expectations, you more than fulfill them which is kind of my problem right now! How can I- you- I just” damn it, he had lost his cool. He had had a plan and the moment this real feeling came out from the man on top of him the plan fell out the window. He was not supposed to be insecure! He was supposed to be cocky and confident and fully aware of how he looked and using it to his advantage! Not look like someone kicked his puppy because he thought he was not enough! “Look, I was playing a joke, alright?!” the words burst out of him of their own volition. As if it was possible, Stiles felt the body above him freeze, joints locked in their place, and no,no,no,no,no! That was not what he wanted! He wanted to explain, not make his close up even more! “My friend betted me I couldn’t get a free drink without getting caught!” He frantically added. “I was trying to prove him wrong!”

The body on top of him shifted and Stiles found himself abruptly standing up, moving, but his feet barely touching the floor, stumbling around trying to find his balance. “Hey! Stop!” He barely registered what was going on until he was thrown against a door with green eyes looking into his own and two strong hands on his chest. The music was barely audible in here and even if that wasn’t the case, Stiles didn’t think he could have focused on it. “Jesus, you’re beautiful.”

He couldn’t resist. He didn’t _try_ to resist. He leaned forward and kissed him. It was the softest pair of lips he had ever felt and they weren’t even moving. Stiles tried to be slow, but what he felt at the moment, the lust, the anticipation, was growing by the second. He moved his lips against the other man’s –damn it, he didn’t even know his name!- and paused for a second until he felt a slight pressure he hadn’t instigated. He didn’t hold back then, and he didn’t let the man go either. Instead he buried his hand in his hair, the other one going for his waist and kissed him with all he had and all he couldn’t give.

He had to go, he knew. He hated it. He wanted to stay here forever. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t risk it. A kiss was not enough to keep him here even if it was the best in his lifetime. He didn’t want to poison him. The way he kissed him, frantic, but softly, with hunger but passionately. The way he touched him, firmly but carefully. Not the kind as if he was made out of glass, but the kind where one tried to memorize the other’s body. It was too much and not enough. He had forgotten what that felt like, or maybe he had never even known. But he couldn’t stay. He’d cherish this moment forever, but he wouldn’t keep it. He couldn’t…he… he had to let go.

He leaned back to get some air in his lungs, and he whispered, “Is someone covering for you?” He found pleasure at the fact the other man looked as breathless as Stiles was.

The bartender nodded, “I told Isaac ten minutes.”

Stiles supposed that was the angel-like dude at the bar. Stiles smirked then, hating himself and what he had to do, “If you think this is going to take ten minutes, you’re severely mistaken.” He leaned in his ear, catching the earlobe between his teeth, pleased at the shiver that went through the other man. He breathed then, “I’m going to take my time with you and when I’m done, you’re going to be begging for more, okay?” The guy buried his head in his neck and shuddered in what Stiles took as anticipation. “I’ll go and tell him you won’t be coming back tonight.” Stiles stepped back, but he was stopped by a hand on his own.

“No, it’s okay. He’s got it covered,” the bartender was looking at him with fire in his eyes and suddenly Stiles found himself in a place out of his comfort zone. Fire was dangerous, remember? The wounds were not worth it. Not even this one.

Stiles shook his head, “Dude, it’s not okay. What if your boss comes in and doesn’t see you there? I won’t let you get fired because of me.”

“You don’t have to,” the bartender insisted. “He’ll-”

Stiles didn’t let him finish. He stepped forward and stole one last kiss before he said, “Just let me, okay? Let me do this for you.”

That must have done the trick because the man was stepping back then, “yeah, okay.”  
He went to leave, but before he did, he looked at him one last time. The man was looking away, leaning against the wall of the staff bathroom almost casually, but Stiles knew he was anything but. “Hey. What’s your name?”

They locked eyes and Stiles was captivated. “Derek.”

Stiles shook himself out of his trance and tried to keep it together for a while longer, “I’ll be right back, Derek.”

He got out then and looked around in the hallway and found the emergency exit not far on his right. Flashes of Derek’s face were moving behind his eyes. The one with his insecurity bare on his face was the most prominent of all. He wondered, what had happened to him? What had made him feel that way? Or was it who?

As he walked away and into the busy streets of New York, he realized he never told Derek his own name.  He was just another face to him. Just another face who screwed him over.

Surprisingly, Stiles was not okay with that.

 

* * *

 

 

It had been three weeks since his first and last time in this place. Stiles had not been the same. He had went on with his con, but always feeling unsatisfied even though every one of his attempts had been successful. Every time he achieved his goal, he felt as if he was getting further and further away from something. He felt pulled to this place and he had tried to resist, he honestly had. But it was getting to a point that it was ridiculous. Maybe he just had to shake it off. Maybe he just had to go there one last time and he’d be fine.

So, here he was. He sat at the bar once again, and he was thankful Derek was nowhere in sight, thankful and disappointed. He saw Isaac manning the bar with a woman. She was blonde and strutted around as if she owned the place. She handed out drinks with a smirk on her face and batted her eyelashes flirtatiously at every customer that caught her eye. She wasn’t the one that took his order, Isaac did. He ordered a scotch with cola. Who knew? Maybe a manly drink was all he needed all along.

Once his drink was in front of him, he took a sip from it and immediately winced at the taste.

“Not a scotch guy, huh?” someone said from next to him. Stiles froze. He knew that voice. It had been years since he last heard it, but he’d recognize it anywhere not matter how much time had passed. He turned around and his sight confirmed his thought. It was Scott. Scott, his best friend. Scott the one he had abandoned and pushed away when his world fell apart. When his father died and he lost himself. The one his boyfriend of that time had told him to get rid of and he had listened like an obedient puppy. It was one of the things he could never forgive himself for.

As Scott’s expression started to fall, Stiles realized he had taken too long to respond and he tried to redeem the situation. “Yeah, I thought maybe a manly drink would change my life, you know?” he shrugged. Scott knew of his opinion regarding fruity drinks and bitter ones. And as he smiled to himself with sadness, Stiles knew he remembered as well.

“Trust me, dude, it won’t.” The sincerity in that statement took him aback. It took him to much simpler, happier times, times he missed every second of every day. It brought up emotions he had tried to bury for so long. Scott probably saw right through him, hence the cheeriness, “I’m Scott, by the way.”

Stiles finally caught up with what his friend was doing. He was giving them a second chance and Stiles was not about to refuse. The past would probably come up later but now that he was here and he found Scott again…He just wanted to go back to the start. “I’m Stiles.”

 

* * *

 

He didn’t know how much time passed, but the conversation with Scott flowed as easily as it used to. It was as if nothing had changed even though they were both aware that everything had. He had been having a good time in a long time, years probably, all until a hand landed on the back of his neck and he was pulled to his feet, basically drugged outside. As he was thrown out, Stiles turned around to see Derek with a stormy expression on his face and Scott who had probably followed them outside was looking confused at them.

“What are you doing here?!”

“Derek, I-” he didn’t know what he wanted to say. Was he going to apologize, beg him to forgive him? He didn’t know.

“Stiles, what’s going on?” Scott asked. Nobody answered.

“I said, what are you doing here!”

Stiles, mistakenly so, went for innocent. “Having a drink with a friend, what does it look like?”

“You still haven’t paid for the last one.”

Stiles gaped at him, not knowing what to say but he didn’t have to. Derek stepped close to him angrily, grabbing his shirt and twisting it in his hands. His face was a breath away but there was nothing sexy about it. There was anger and… and pain. Stiles hated himself even more. “Is he your friend you made the bet with? Is he the one that said you couldn’t seduce the bartender into giving you a free drink? Is he the one who betted you to do it using any means necessary, even using him for your satisfaction?! IS HE!”

Stiles had never seen a man so angry. His hold was so tight he could hardly breathe and he shoved and pushed during Derek’s mad speech and he tried to get some air. He hit him repeatedly, though he doubted it hurt much. Derek’s face was almost comic-like once he realized what he was doing. Scott was behind them shouting his name repeatedly and when Derek came to his senses, he let him go, his eyes wide, his hands clenched in fists at his sides as if he was scared they had a mind of their own. He stepped back and Stiles wheezed for a moment. “What is your problem?!” He yelled at him once he could.

Something seemed to break inside Derek, bringing his anger and determination back tenfold, but he didn’t move closer this time. “My problem is that you left!” He looked away, as if he was trying to keep his words in, but they were winning. “You manipulated me into- and you- you took off! You were the first person that I- and you- you fucking left!”

Stiles felt himself go rigid as Derek tried to tell him something about him but stopped himself at the last moment. He had never meant to hurt him. He often wondered what had happened to him, who had hurt him that much and Stiles never meant to fall into that category. “What? What do you mean?” Derek looked away again. When it seemed that he wouldn’t speak, Stiles asked again, “Derek! What do you mean?!”

Derek shook his head at him. He turned his back on him and Stiles thought this was it, he was going to walk away and he’d never know. He hurt the only person he never meant to and he was about to leave without knowing why Stiles did what he did.

But Derek didn’t leave. “I put my walls down once,” his voice was quiet, Stiles had to strain to hear it, but he did. “Just once. I thought maybe it’d be okay to be me for ten minutes, to stop looking over my shoulder,” Derek laughed harshly at that. “And look where that got me.”

“Fire is dangerous, Derek,” Stiles said meaning so many things and nothing at all at the same time.

Derek turned his head to the right and Stiles was able to see his profile. He was looking down and with what came after, Stiles didn’t blame him for the lack of eye contact. “My girlfriend burned my family alive. Yeah, she taught me that. I was just too dumb to listen.” With that, he started moving to the bar once again.  

“Yeah, you fucking are!” Stiles screamed. There Derek was, drowning in his own pity party, sad because Stiles left him standing without realizing that Stiles did him the biggest favor he could offer.

Derek turned around abruptly, “Excuse me?”

Stiles threw his hands in the air, “I’m sorry, okay?! I’m fucking sorry I left, but you don’t want me!”

“St-” Derek tried to speak, but Stiles didn’t let him.

“No, shut up. Now it’s my turn!” He took a step closer, trying to look into his eyes, trying to get Derek to see the truth that had taken Stiles five too long years to see. “You don’t want me! You shouldn’t want me! I am poison, okay?” He spread his hands out, baring everything he was and everything he could never be, “I am a thirty year old man, with no family, no friends, no life, no job, a one bedroom apartment all because I was too blind to see, okay?!”

He stepped even closer, watched as Derek looked at him with a carefully blank expression. “My father died because of me! Don’t you get it?! I didn’t see, Derek! I’m not belittling what you went through, god knows I don’t, but  I’m telling you, I am worse than you girlfriend!” He took another step forward. He was moving, but the distance between them still seemed miles long. “She burned your everything, but you’re here, living, working, doing something in the city that nobody dares to stay still!” He took a breath then, because he had to warn him to stay away. He had to know who Stiles was even if it was not something he wanted to reveal. “But she didn’t cheat on you for all of the five years you were together! She didn’t steal your identity! She didn’t con you out of your own home! She didn’t steal your money and your company! The one you had to starve at some point to build! She didn’t get your father killed for you to stay quiet and you fucking did!”

The silence after that was deafening. He barely registered Scott crying openly for his friend’s fate. He could see the wheels of the what ifs turning in his friend’s head and now was not the time to deal with it. Derek needed to know. “So don’t- don’t think of me as leaving. I just tried to keep you safe. Because you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me and I can’t have you.”

Derek stayed silent for a long time, watching him, probably taking it all in. “Have you always been this stupid?” he finally said.

That was not what Stiles expected. He knew he should have seen it all coming right from the start, but that didn’t mean Derek could just call him out on it. “I-”

Derek closed the gap that was separating them. He grabbed hold of his head and stopped his thinking process. “Don’t. None of that was your fault. You did not kill your father.” He could probably see the uncertainty and shame in his eyes, because he went on, “I don’t really know you. I know that somebody used you and they tried to destroy you, but you’re still alive. You didn’t do any of it, Stiles. You were manipulated to feel that way, but you. Didn’t. Do. It.” He accentuated each word, trying to make it stick in his thick skull.

But Derek couldn’t possibly know what he was talking about. It wasn’t like that. “You’re wrong. I-”

“Did I kill my family?” Derek interrupted him.

“What?! No!” Stiles said immediately. He didn’t really know him either, but the Derek he knew wouldn’t hurt someone he loved and the pain behind the word family told him there had been nothing more important for him. “How can you even say that?! It was your psycho-girlfriend’s choice!”

“Exactly,” Derek agreed. “I didn’t kill my family and neither did you.”

“But I-”

“ _You_ made mistakes, everybody does. But I’d like to know you if you let me,” he looked into his eyes and his face probably looking for a reaction, but Stiles was too shocked to give him one. “I’d like to know the one that made them, payed for them, regretted them, and lived through them. I want to know everything if you let me.” How was he even real?

Apparently, Scott agreed with him, because after a moment of silence, he suddenly said, “If you don’t kiss him, I will.”

Stiles smiled at that. Scott would always be Scott. Hopelessly romantic and optimistic beyond control. “Scott, buddy, your timing has always been impeccable.”

Maybe it was time for Stiles to take a page from Scott’s book. They were both broken. They had both been fooled. But as Derek said, they were both still alive. Maybe together they would find what they were looking for.

Just in case Scott was serious, Stiles leaned in and sealed their lips together in a promise, acceptance, everything he felt and couldn’t say yet. Nobody was kissing Derek. He loved Scott, but no.

Derek was his for as long as he’ll have him. Judging from the way he kissed him back, at the moment that was indefinite.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So... yeah. That. What did you think? I hope it wasn't too far-fetched, the whole idea of this fic. 
> 
> I hope you liked it.
> 
> In case you're interested, here's my [tumblr](http://puddingwillbeouralways.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Sorry. I still don't know how to put a link in this thing.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> P.S. I changed the title. I still don't think it conveys everything this story is, but I like it better than the last one. I think.


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